[ Her motions fall right into line with his, following his lead wherever the next step of the dance takes them. Out with a spin, in to his arm, and out then in again, drawing a pattern in the snow with each of their steps. She's grinning by the second rotation, earrings swaying with the dance and crimson hair falling against her cheeks at the end of a turn.
Pyra remembers the dance, certainly, but between that first dance and now, she remembers all else she has gone through, all else he has gone through, all they have helped each other with together. This dance paints a sigil into the ground, but between the dancers themselves, it illustrates all the trust between them, the journey they've been through, and creates something beautiful of it. When he places his hands about her waist for the lip, her hands goes to his shoulders to assist, her eyes locking with his as he turns her in the air. She's giggling softy, happily by the time her feet find their balance on the ground, and from there it's finale with the dip, once more supported by him.
If it wouldn't upset their balance further, she would kiss him in this position, and she hopes the sentiment is there when her palm finds its way to his cheek and her gaze remains lost in his. She's breathless-- not from the dance itself, but from all that it's evoked. It occurs to her that a simple dance shouldn't be this overwhelming, but when it's with him, when a dance shared again from two years past means so much (that they're both still here, that they're together, that they had this memory and can repeat it again, as if building a tradition of their own)-- ]
N-Noct...
[ She has no words at the moment, not really. She has only the love in her eyes and the gentleness of her touch, the affection and warmth to share with her body and palm against him. She has so much of that adoration and love she wants to give him, but can't be given in a single moment. ]
Oh shit, [he utters, somewhat helplessly, grinning like a damned fool. They did it. They actually- it went great. The flower beneath them is a hot mess, nothing so neat as what it would look like on the grand marble of a Lucian ballroom, but he can see it and that's the true goal. He held her, he didn't fall. They remembered the steps. He didn't even slip in the snow and drop her! They'd been completely in sync the whole time, like they'd done it a hundred times before.
It's just... symbolic, it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. There's no kingdom or citizenry to support, no walls to build. This tradition should be dead and gone. But to him, in this moment, it feels like a tremendous success, and one he truly can't find words for.
Carefully he pulls her back up to her feet, supporting her with both hands, and for a moment just quietly marvels at it all, at her, at this inconsequential yet at the same time monumental victory. He leans in to kiss her once, twice, both hasty and wild.]
[ She smiles into his kisses, and settled back on her feet, she's stable enough to give him one in return. With the dance over, she clasps her hands together behind his neck, idly swaying with him in the center of the flower-pattern they've drawn. ]
Is that so surprising?
[ His excitement is infectious as she takes in his expression. Architect, he's practically glowing with a grin like that. Anyone who says he's a poor dancer doesn't know him, and whenever he insists that he's not a good dancer, either, she'll be quick to remind him of how flawlessly he can. ]
[He wouldn't feel so exuberantly flustered if he'd expected it to go that well. She's always had an excellent memory (and with how he understands the crystal now, that part isn't a surprise) and meanwhile, he's lucky if he remembers to mend a loose button hours after being reminded. Phone alerts will spare him from missing important dates, but a dance practiced for a wedding that never happened years ago? That's a taller ask. Yet somehow it had all just... clicked.]
Maybe I've... been overthinking it this whole time.
[ It's easy to admire him, as if each expression he makes is a work of art. As for over-thinking things, usually she's the one guilty of it. This time, though, the dance had come without a second thought. ]
I've always thought you were a good dancer. [ They did this dance before, but they've also danced during the New Year's celebration two years ago, and other times. She continues to sway with him, guiding them into a comfortable, slow turn. ] Even when we spar, your movements have this fluidity to them. And you don't seem to over-think things in combat.
[He spins her out, the movements slow and relaxed compared to the whirlwind of movement that was the dance prior. He likes this too, the casual motions they can make up on a whim, over the structured process of a planned dance, even if that one was fun. He'd said as much before, at his dad's winter party.]
Fighting can be kinda like a dance, sure. It's not as strict most of the time, though. I can do what I want, when I want. [He tilts his head, looking thoughtful.] Though me and the guys have coordinated moves together, and those we had to work on and practice. So maybe it transfers over pretty naturally.
I'm lucky to have a partner that would teach me this particular dance. [ She voice is fonder now, her gaze thoughtful. ] It feels... special, somehow.
[ Perhaps because it forms-- or is supposed to form-- the Lucian crest, or maybe that it's supposed to mean something as to good luck. But she knows the real reason: it's because she was able to complete this dance with him. ]
Well, it is special in that way, technically. [He leans in while they're close, bumping his forehead gently to hers.] You're meant to dance it with your lover.
[Or soon-to-be, or newly wedded, or had-to-get-married-in-some-other-country-so-here's-the-ceremony-post-honeymoon- anyway.]
[ Before, he had only mentioned that there was some superstition based on how well the dance was performed. This angle gives the dance a more…— ] That… Instead if strictly ceremonial, that makes the dance more… romantic.
Now that he's said it, she allows herself to wonder what would it be like. (She shouldn't get too excited, and she cannot stop her blush. But if. If he was to choose her...)
Him, her, a wedding. Pyra cannot imagine herself as a bride, but she can imagine him as a groom, slimmed into a formal suit, elegant and handsome and just slightly nervous, but happy for whomever he's chosen as his bride. Could that be her?-- is a thought that shouldn't be crossing her mind, presumptuous as it is, given his past and how he was once engaged (and the fallout thereof).
Is this topic so easy for him to speak of? He is smiling, though... ]
It's... a very fitting dance for a wedding. Very elegant and-- you as the groom... You would have danced it perfectly.
[it's admittedly easier than it used to be. For so long the subject had made him anxious, and after Luna died, even the word wedding could cause him some distress, at times obvious, at other times more subtle and insidious. He'd had a hard time at some parts of Era's wedding, though he'd kept it mostly to himself and the end of it had been distracting enough that it became the last thing on his mind.
Here and now, a few years away from it and with plenty of family and friends around to support him and help him heal, the deepest wounds associated with weddings have mended well. It might always hurt a little in some ways he's not yet aware of, but the bittersweet feeling is far preferable to that stabbing ache it used to be. He can smile, he can enjoy this dance with her and not feel like his whole world has shattered.
He can think, unexpectedly and to his own surprise, of her in a beautiful dress, decorated in jewelry, waiting for a crown, surrounded by friends. Meeting him in the center of the room and taking his hand for-
-ah. That's… terrifying, but what a lovely image that is, at the same time.]
...You did dance it perfectly. I'm sure you'd do amazing.
[ "It's... it can be a wedding dance. For the new king and queen."
"You did dance it perfectly. I'm sure you'd do amazing."
Is this practice, for the real thing? She's trying to curb her hopes, but he's making it so very difficult. It's easier to settle back on old insecurities that such traditions are not meant for the likes of her, or that she isn't worth a place formally at his side. What exactly would change if they were engaged and married? They would still be themselves, they would spend time with each other no more or less than they do already.
(She would get to call him husband.)
But these insecurities are always trumped by what she does have, and that is a life currently spent with him in the present, together. That's enough. That's more than enough.
And so she relaxes her anxieties as she looks up at him, swaying against his form as they continue a idle, slow dance. Wistfully, ]
[A year or so ago, such a question might have gotten him stumbling, flustered, seeking a graceful way to escape the commitment of an answer. Because that's the dream, isn't it? You meet someone, you fall in love, you ask them to marry you and then they do, and that's how you get a family. In the lives of most people, normal people, it can go that route. It isn't... political, it's not a footnote in someone else's treaty proposal, all arranged to save the fate of your nation. He'd wanted to save her for years, and if marrying her achieved that goal, then he'd do it, and maybe they'd have been happy. But then she died, everything washed away, and he'd not allowed himself to think about marrying anyone because there'd never been anyone else, and he didn't deserve it after failing her.
Now... he lets himself think about it, lips pursed, his expression musing as they turn for a bit.]
I never got to propose, [is his response, not answer.] Never got to ask. I was taken to the Citadel one day and told that it was all arranged. Like someone made a doctor's appointment for me. "At 2 o'clock on Tuesday you're permanently tying your life to someone else's."
[That's not an answer. He spins her out and draws her back, eyes following her movement, her expression.]
I don't even know much about proposing. There was a ring. But asking- what if the answer was no? What if I wasn't wanted? I was afraid to ask. I... should have, though. Even if the answer was no, even if we were forced to do it anyway, I should have.
[That's not an answer, either. Closing his eyes as they sway, he imagines if it really went like this- a beautiful day, a dance in the snow of their house (their house!), and then... she asks him if he's proposing? He could say yes. He could get down on one knee with no ring or prepared words and take the easy way out, this path towards a mediocre success that she's opened up for him. He'd say yes, and she'd say yes, and that would be that. Another one he'd not earned. Or maybe she'd say no because she was only teasing him, and he'd be a proper idiot because who the hell thinks that's a good enough proposal for the one they love? Just because she'd thank him for a 10-yen plastic ring doesn't mean he should give her one.]
...No, [is his answer, finally, opening his eyes again. He took too long, but... he hopes it's okay.] Not like this. [She deserves better than this. And he wants to ask.] But when I figure it out, I hope you'll say yes.
[ Her expression as he turns her is noticeably-- not hurt, but suddenly guilty. She regrets her words, just then, and how after such a lovely afternoon, filled with hot chocolate and snow and dancing, she had to say that one word: proposal. It's obvious he's still has mixed feelings about the wedding of his that fell through, of Luna and what more he could have done for her. He had wanted to make a proposal right by the one he would have wed, or as right as he could have made it, regardless if it had been decided for them.
And that's the important part to it: it had been decided for him. If he is going to propose to anyone in this world, it should be his choice, his choice completely to do so and when he is ready. Not a moment sooner.
Her own insecurities and doubts have no place here. She wouldn't want him to propose until he does "figure it out", whether that proposal be to her or anyone else, and she'd like to believe that he has the time to think of what he wants and with what he is comfortable. She hopes the world will not take him away until he does, and she can wait. In the meantime, she can continue loving him as she always does, spending time with him, and being so very grateful for his presence in her own life.
At last, she smiles for him, humbled. ] I truly want that for you, a choice for where, how, if, and when.
[ Pyra brings their dance to an an end, instead reaching for his hand and bringing it up to her lips. After a pause, she kisses his knuckles tenderly, in a way she hopes is supportive, understanding of his circumstances. But she finishes with this: ]
[The guilt in her expression wasn't his goal, of course - not ever - but perhaps it's unavoidable to have a conversation like this without some guilt. He's felt it himself plenty of times when the subject comes up, because of Luna and his inability to save her. Engagements, weddings, marriage- all very sensitive subjects, and Pyra is well aware of this. It would be foolish to expect her to be unaffected when she's been so historically sensitive to his anxiety or trauma. He's come a long way from where he started out, pitiful and self-hating and so very flawed after Altissia, after Zegnautus, after all of it, but that doesn't mean he can sweep it all under the rug. She understands, when even he often doesn't.
He takes a beat or two as they slow and halt the dance, fingers curling in her grasp as she kisses them, torn on what to say next, how to respond to her. She's so careful with his heart, and he appreciates that always, though he wishes she could be more free with her wants and her questions, without having his hang-ups get in the way. But for him to do this properly, he has to take care of his own heart with as much kindness as she does- and in turn, he needs to take care of hers, lest he build a foundation of what they have here on a grave of his old issues. That's not right, either.
"You know my answer already."
They... have some time. He hopes. He closes his eyes again, taking a deep breath, and leans in to kiss her properly, soft and lingering. This feels right to him, the way it has so many times before, and whatever doubts he might have about weddings or marriage or whatever, they have nothing to do with any failings in her.]
There's no 'if', [he murmurs, as they part. Maybe if they ever are taken from here, or if something comes between them that they can't help, or if the world is shattered in a way that makes a wedding impossible to pull off. But... if.
There is no if, not when it comes to her. The rest, he has to think about.]
[ In the end, it's not a subject she should dwell upon, either, and one she can only be more careful about in the future. When his lips take hers, the kiss is reassuring of all of his love, and when he pulls back, no guilt lingers within her expression. She can wait. If it's for him, she can wait forever.
So she answers softly, her hand squeezing his affectionately, ] I'll wait for you, whenever you're ready.
[ And-- this dance doesn't need to be for a wedding. It's said to predict the fortune of the future, isn't it? In which case...
As they've both told each other, they've danced it perfectly. Pyra is not so superstitious that it has a literal predictive value, but it does make her more mindful of the hope she holds in her heart and of the inspiration the dance gives to want to make it a wonderful year, if it is within her ability. ]
So... Here's to another year together, then. Of knowing you and loving you.
I'll say yes to that. [His smile broadens, and while her comment hadn't stressed him out, he does relax noticeably against her, grateful for the time and the answer she's granted him.] Hell yes.
[Another year of this, with her? Helping one another, supporting and loving and being there? With how far the both of them have managed to come from where they began? There's no doubt in his mind that she's made him better, made his life better. They've had their ups and downs, and they've weathered them so well, and all it did was make them stronger. They can face whatever comes next, and he won't balk. He knows how fortunate he is, and how happy she makes him. That's worth anything.]
[ She brings him into a hug, resting her head against his shoulder and smiling against his shirt. ]
I look forward to it.
[ She's grateful to know him, and she wouldn't be the person she is today without him. She doesn't need more than this: him alongside her, her alongside him. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Pyra remembers the dance, certainly, but between that first dance and now, she remembers all else she has gone through, all else he has gone through, all they have helped each other with together. This dance paints a sigil into the ground, but between the dancers themselves, it illustrates all the trust between them, the journey they've been through, and creates something beautiful of it. When he places his hands about her waist for the lip, her hands goes to his shoulders to assist, her eyes locking with his as he turns her in the air. She's giggling softy, happily by the time her feet find their balance on the ground, and from there it's finale with the dip, once more supported by him.
If it wouldn't upset their balance further, she would kiss him in this position, and she hopes the sentiment is there when her palm finds its way to his cheek and her gaze remains lost in his. She's breathless-- not from the dance itself, but from all that it's evoked. It occurs to her that a simple dance shouldn't be this overwhelming, but when it's with him, when a dance shared again from two years past means so much (that they're both still here, that they're together, that they had this memory and can repeat it again, as if building a tradition of their own)-- ]
N-Noct...
[ She has no words at the moment, not really. She has only the love in her eyes and the gentleness of her touch, the affection and warmth to share with her body and palm against him. She has so much of that adoration and love she wants to give him, but can't be given in a single moment. ]
no subject
It's just... symbolic, it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. There's no kingdom or citizenry to support, no walls to build. This tradition should be dead and gone. But to him, in this moment, it feels like a tremendous success, and one he truly can't find words for.
Carefully he pulls her back up to her feet, supporting her with both hands, and for a moment just quietly marvels at it all, at her, at this inconsequential yet at the same time monumental victory. He leans in to kiss her once, twice, both hasty and wild.]
Oh man. Oh man! Did we seriously just do that?
no subject
Is that so surprising?
[ His excitement is infectious as she takes in his expression. Architect, he's practically glowing with a grin like that. Anyone who says he's a poor dancer doesn't know him, and whenever he insists that he's not a good dancer, either, she'll be quick to remind him of how flawlessly he can. ]
no subject
[He wouldn't feel so exuberantly flustered if he'd expected it to go that well. She's always had an excellent memory (and with how he understands the crystal now, that part isn't a surprise) and meanwhile, he's lucky if he remembers to mend a loose button hours after being reminded. Phone alerts will spare him from missing important dates, but a dance practiced for a wedding that never happened years ago? That's a taller ask. Yet somehow it had all just... clicked.]
Maybe I've... been overthinking it this whole time.
no subject
I've always thought you were a good dancer. [ They did this dance before, but they've also danced during the New Year's celebration two years ago, and other times. She continues to sway with him, guiding them into a comfortable, slow turn. ] Even when we spar, your movements have this fluidity to them. And you don't seem to over-think things in combat.
no subject
Fighting can be kinda like a dance, sure. It's not as strict most of the time, though. I can do what I want, when I want. [He tilts his head, looking thoughtful.] Though me and the guys have coordinated moves together, and those we had to work on and practice. So maybe it transfers over pretty naturally.
no subject
And this dance...? I'd think that even if it is tradition, each who dance to it put their own flair to the flower we dance.
no subject
Hmm... well, you're a lot more enthusiastic about it than my practice partners. I think that in and of itself is a big flair.
no subject
[ Perhaps because it forms-- or is supposed to form-- the Lucian crest, or maybe that it's supposed to mean something as to good luck. But she knows the real reason: it's because she was able to complete this dance with him. ]
no subject
[Or soon-to-be, or newly wedded, or had-to-get-married-in-some-other-country-so-here's-the-ceremony-post-honeymoon- anyway.]
no subject
[ Before, he had only mentioned that there was some superstition based on how well the dance was performed. This angle gives the dance a more…— ] That… Instead if strictly ceremonial, that makes the dance more… romantic.
More than I thought it would be.
[ A blush forms across her cheeks. ]
no subject
It's... it can be a wedding dance. For the new king and queen.
no subject
Now that he's said it, she allows herself to wonder what would it be like. (She shouldn't get too excited, and she cannot stop her blush. But if. If he was to choose her...)
Him, her, a wedding. Pyra cannot imagine herself as a bride, but she can imagine him as a groom, slimmed into a formal suit, elegant and handsome and just slightly nervous, but happy for whomever he's chosen as his bride. Could that be her?-- is a thought that shouldn't be crossing her mind, presumptuous as it is, given his past and how he was once engaged (and the fallout thereof).
Is this topic so easy for him to speak of? He is smiling, though... ]
It's... a very fitting dance for a wedding. Very elegant and-- you as the groom... You would have danced it perfectly.
no subject
Here and now, a few years away from it and with plenty of family and friends around to support him and help him heal, the deepest wounds associated with weddings have mended well. It might always hurt a little in some ways he's not yet aware of, but the bittersweet feeling is far preferable to that stabbing ache it used to be. He can smile, he can enjoy this dance with her and not feel like his whole world has shattered.
He can think, unexpectedly and to his own surprise, of her in a beautiful dress, decorated in jewelry, waiting for a crown, surrounded by friends. Meeting him in the center of the room and taking his hand for-
-ah. That's… terrifying, but what a lovely image that is, at the same time.]
...You did dance it perfectly. I'm sure you'd do amazing.
no subject
"You did dance it perfectly. I'm sure you'd do amazing."
Is this practice, for the real thing? She's trying to curb her hopes, but he's making it so very difficult. It's easier to settle back on old insecurities that such traditions are not meant for the likes of her, or that she isn't worth a place formally at his side. What exactly would change if they were engaged and married? They would still be themselves, they would spend time with each other no more or less than they do already.
(She would get to call him husband.)
But these insecurities are always trumped by what she does have, and that is a life currently spent with him in the present, together. That's enough. That's more than enough.
And so she relaxes her anxieties as she looks up at him, swaying against his form as they continue a idle, slow dance. Wistfully, ]
Is this your way of proposing to me?
no subject
Now... he lets himself think about it, lips pursed, his expression musing as they turn for a bit.]
I never got to propose, [is his response, not answer.] Never got to ask. I was taken to the Citadel one day and told that it was all arranged. Like someone made a doctor's appointment for me. "At 2 o'clock on Tuesday you're permanently tying your life to someone else's."
[That's not an answer. He spins her out and draws her back, eyes following her movement, her expression.]
I don't even know much about proposing. There was a ring. But asking- what if the answer was no? What if I wasn't wanted? I was afraid to ask. I... should have, though. Even if the answer was no, even if we were forced to do it anyway, I should have.
[That's not an answer, either. Closing his eyes as they sway, he imagines if it really went like this- a beautiful day, a dance in the snow of their house (their house!), and then... she asks him if he's proposing? He could say yes. He could get down on one knee with no ring or prepared words and take the easy way out, this path towards a mediocre success that she's opened up for him. He'd say yes, and she'd say yes, and that would be that. Another one he'd not earned. Or maybe she'd say no because she was only teasing him, and he'd be a proper idiot because who the hell thinks that's a good enough proposal for the one they love? Just because she'd thank him for a 10-yen plastic ring doesn't mean he should give her one.]
...No, [is his answer, finally, opening his eyes again. He took too long, but... he hopes it's okay.] Not like this. [She deserves better than this. And he wants to ask.] But when I figure it out, I hope you'll say yes.
no subject
And that's the important part to it: it had been decided for him. If he is going to propose to anyone in this world, it should be his choice, his choice completely to do so and when he is ready. Not a moment sooner.
Her own insecurities and doubts have no place here. She wouldn't want him to propose until he does "figure it out", whether that proposal be to her or anyone else, and she'd like to believe that he has the time to think of what he wants and with what he is comfortable. She hopes the world will not take him away until he does, and she can wait. In the meantime, she can continue loving him as she always does, spending time with him, and being so very grateful for his presence in her own life.
At last, she smiles for him, humbled. ] I truly want that for you, a choice for where, how, if, and when.
[ Pyra brings their dance to an an end, instead reaching for his hand and bringing it up to her lips. After a pause, she kisses his knuckles tenderly, in a way she hopes is supportive, understanding of his circumstances. But she finishes with this: ]
You know my answer already.
no subject
He takes a beat or two as they slow and halt the dance, fingers curling in her grasp as she kisses them, torn on what to say next, how to respond to her. She's so careful with his heart, and he appreciates that always, though he wishes she could be more free with her wants and her questions, without having his hang-ups get in the way. But for him to do this properly, he has to take care of his own heart with as much kindness as she does- and in turn, he needs to take care of hers, lest he build a foundation of what they have here on a grave of his old issues. That's not right, either.
"You know my answer already."
They... have some time. He hopes. He closes his eyes again, taking a deep breath, and leans in to kiss her properly, soft and lingering. This feels right to him, the way it has so many times before, and whatever doubts he might have about weddings or marriage or whatever, they have nothing to do with any failings in her.]
There's no 'if', [he murmurs, as they part. Maybe if they ever are taken from here, or if something comes between them that they can't help, or if the world is shattered in a way that makes a wedding impossible to pull off. But... if.
There is no if, not when it comes to her. The rest, he has to think about.]
no subject
So she answers softly, her hand squeezing his affectionately, ] I'll wait for you, whenever you're ready.
[ And-- this dance doesn't need to be for a wedding. It's said to predict the fortune of the future, isn't it? In which case...
As they've both told each other, they've danced it perfectly. Pyra is not so superstitious that it has a literal predictive value, but it does make her more mindful of the hope she holds in her heart and of the inspiration the dance gives to want to make it a wonderful year, if it is within her ability. ]
So... Here's to another year together, then. Of knowing you and loving you.
no subject
[Another year of this, with her? Helping one another, supporting and loving and being there? With how far the both of them have managed to come from where they began? There's no doubt in his mind that she's made him better, made his life better. They've had their ups and downs, and they've weathered them so well, and all it did was make them stronger. They can face whatever comes next, and he won't balk. He knows how fortunate he is, and how happy she makes him. That's worth anything.]
no subject
I look forward to it.
[ She's grateful to know him, and she wouldn't be the person she is today without him. She doesn't need more than this: him alongside her, her alongside him. ]